Bound
by Delylah
Summary: A soliloquy with a twist. Someone is musing upon the inescapability of their relationship with another. Comments are welcome.


Bound  
  
  
  
By Delylah  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are owned by Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, Fox, the WB, UPN, etc. I'm not even contributing much of a plot here, just a tiny concept that occurred to me upon watching reruns concurrently with the 6th season of BTVS.  
  
I'm not sure if this concept works well. It was a theory I had that I worked into a ficlet. I would appreciate any constructive criticism. I only hope it's clear who both characters are by the end of the story, and I hope they are not the characters you thought they would be when you first started reading. In any case, enjoy (  
  
  
  
  
  
When I first joined her, it was only supposed to be temporary. A mutually beneficial arrangement: she got to save the world, I got my revenge. I didn't expect her pull to be so strong, that I would be unable to break free. It's been almost four years since she and I made our unholy alliance. Of the two of us, I believed I was the stronger. I was older, wiser. She was an innocent, I thought.  
  
But the power she wields, over me, over others, no ordinary girl is this one, no innocent is she. Her strength stems from a source more ancient than I've ever encountered or even imagined. She wields it gracefully now, channeling power as easily as flipping on a light with a switch. Before she was sometimes clumsy, her missteps reminiscent of a newborn filly trying on its legs for size, uncomfortable in its own body.  
  
At first I was using her. Right or wrong doesn't really matter to creatures like me. We have our own moral code. She was available and I needed her to accomplish what I couldn't alone, what neither of us could alone. Together we were stronger. Maybe not invincible, but we got the job done. I tried to leave her then, as I had originally planned, but she kept tugging me back. I shrugged it off, said it was the Hellmouth - they've always held an attraction for the undead, the wanting-to-be-dead, or the otherwise "mortally challenged". It only made sense that I should hang around, see how things unfolded.  
  
I was kidding myself. Each time it was she who pulled me back, who called to me, unintentionally at first, until she got used to me being there. It started with "I need some information", progressed to "I need a tiny favor" and ended up at "help me or else." I realized then that I was stuck here in Sunnydale. I would never escape the Hellmouth, never escape her until the bitch dies.  
  
But I can't bring myself to kill her. I love her, you see. I think it started that night I joined her against Angelus. She seemed so hurt and lost, but still willing to try to stop him. I had always admired her spirit, but that night I fell a little bit in love with her. It's so funny, really, looking back. Me, falling in love with a naïve slip of a girl - they're just not my usual type, you know. And I tried to fight it, tried so hard. I knew it wasn't right and never would be. Creatures like myself weren't meant to be loved by mortals. And she doesn't. I know she doesn't, know she never has and never will.  
  
But, for a while, she needed me. That's why she invited me inside in the first place. And for a while, slipping inside her felt like coming home. She was warm and soft, and I had been cold for what seemed such a very long time. She enveloped me completely, and for a while I felt almost human. While I was there she would whisper such sweet words, tell me I made her feel beautiful, that there was no one but me and the magick we worked when entwined together as one was like nothing else under the sun. Later, after the magick was over, she would leave me alone and return to her friends, and I remained her dirty little secret.  
  
I'm not sure when the tables turned, when she started using me instead of me using her. Maybe as far back as that little spell that left Giles temporarily blinded and sent demons after Xander and Anya. That wonderful little spell…yes, that was the first time I knew I would never escape her grasp, that in her little hand she held whatever pieces of my heart were left. Being with her that night…the rush was intense, even a little frightening. She owned me then, and deep down she knew it.  
  
Still, I came and went as I pleased. I wasn't bound to her, not like now. I think it was Glory that finally did the trick. It was after I helped her against Glory that I saw the darkness growing inside her, and who could blame her after what she went through? But that darkness frightened even me. By then I'd been part of her life for so long that I had no other reason for existing than her. Without her, I would be nothing but the dust from whence we all came. So I stay, and wait for her to call on me for help once again, even though she doesn't really need me anymore. Her power far exceeds mine these days. Bringing someone back from the dead tends to have consequences, you know.  
  
I begged her not to do it, told her I wouldn't help her, but I no longer have a choice in the matter. She calls, I must answer. We are one, she and I, even when she chooses to forget I'm there. My Willow…she's learned so much since the night I joined with her to finish casting the curse upon Angelus. I had my revenge that night. Now it seems perhaps he had his in return, for as she grows stronger, I grow weaker - she drains me as well as Angelus would have if he hadn't simply snapped my neck. 


End file.
